


Boriing

by RyMagnatar



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Breakups, Drinking, Ducks, F/M, Gen, Humanstuck, M/M, misinterpretation of relationships, rarepairs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-17
Updated: 2012-12-18
Packaged: 2017-11-21 08:28:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/595617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyMagnatar/pseuds/RyMagnatar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Feferi breaks up with Sollux because he's just, well, not as interesting or adventurous as she'd like. </p>
<p>Sollux decides to try and do non-boring, regular people activities. It looks like its a load of crap, but then he meets the lovely and mysterious Rose Lalonde.<br/>Too bad it looks like she's got a boyfriend already.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Front Steps

You should have seen this—

No.

No, you _did_ see this coming. You saw it coming a long way off in the way you didn’t see the end with Aradia. You always thought there was something in Feferi that you couldn’t match, couldn’t rise up to reach. There was something more in her that meant she would never really be happy with you. Yeah, you saw that coming miles off.

So when she sat down with you on the steps of your apartment building, her hands pressed tight between her knees and her gaze on anything but you, you knew what was going to happen.

You were always expecting the end.

You just weren’t expecting her reason _why._

“You’re just not as _exciting_ as I would like,” She says in that soft little voice that means she’s not trying to hurt your feelings as she says it. You know that tone from overhearing her talk so patiently with others. “I hate to say it Sollux, but you can be downright boring at times! You never want to go out unless it’s for dinner and then it’s only out to the restaurant and then back home.” Then she does look at you, a quick, moist gaze that says she’s one rebuttal from tears so you keep your mouth shut against your instinct of retort first, apologize later.

“So this is it,” you can’t help it if your voice is a little tighter than it would be in any other conversation. Let’s face it, this isn’t any other conversation. You’re just glad she didn’t make you take her out somewhere fancy to give you the news. You’re glad she’s nicer than that.  “We’re over?”

She sniffs, and pushes her glasses up a little, enough to quickly wipe her eyes. Then she’s standing and smoothing her hands over her skirt to calm herself. You tense. You’ve really begun to notice all these little things about her; the things she does when she’s nervous or happy or Trying To Be A Nice Person. It makes you sad but happy at the same time. It makes you conflicted.

You frown at her as she tries to smile at you. “I’m sorry Sollux, but yes. We’re over.”

“Because I’m too boring for you.”

She winces, but nods her head. “That’s one way of putting it.”

“You’re breaking up with me,” you have to get this clear, perfectly accurate, “Because I’m too boring. Is that it?”

“Look, that’s not all of it, not really. It’s just things have changed. I’ve changed and you,” she gestures to you, the sweep of her hand covering from your too big head to your skinny, bony feet. “You _haven’t_ changed! And I am not happy and I don’t want to make you into someone who you aren’t, I don’t want you to think I have to fix you or something. So I’m just… I’m going to find someone who is what I want already. I want a little adventure, a little spontaneity, Sollux! I don’t want to plan out every single week exactly the same each and every time!”

She runs that gesturing hand through her thick black hair and sighs in that full body way that makes her shoulders move and her chest bounce. You bite the inside of your cheek, torn between striving to remember that and trying to ignore it because she was leaving you.

“I can’t stay another Saturday night cooped up in your room while you code your fingers off. I’m sorry, but we’re over and done with.” She blinks furiously, holding back her tears with sheer will. Is it really so awful to break up with someone that you have to cry in front of them about it?

You try not to think about how you cried when Aradia turned her back on you and succeed. Barely. “So this is it,” you’re talking quietly, because you just don’t have the energy to shout. You don’t really feel like it either. You’ve been on a pretty good upswing right now, despite the hours upon hours you spent coding. You’re not angry at her. It’s not her fault you’re not satisfactory, after all. “This is the end.”

“Yes.” Her voice shakes.

“Not even friends after?”

She shakes her head. You swear you see a tear or two drip down her cheek. She was always so vividly emotional. Like a flower in the sunlight, bright and colorful and smelling so sweetly. Except she was always more like a brilliantly colored fish, wasn’t she? Flashing in and out of your life so quick and fast… You never really could keep up, could you? You were too heavy handed for that.

“You saw how well that went with Eridan,” She says glumly. Oh yeah, that guy. He was really in your business for the first few months you were with her- while she was still talking to him frequently on the phone. How long ago did she stop doing that? You could have sworn she was calling him on the phone only last week.

Her hand moves, lifting slightly like she wants to reach out to you, but she makes a fist with it and keeps it tight at her side. “Goodbye Sollux.”

“Bye.” You lift your hand in a sort of wave but she’s already turning on her heel and walking away quickly.

You watch her go down the street, head bowed slightly and her colorful skirt swishing about her ankles. You shove your hand into your pocket and fumble around until you get a cigarette. Lighting it, you sit and you smoke it, feeling empty.

Boring, huh?

No shit.


	2. Kitchen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sollux goes to Karkat for advice.

“What the ever loving fuck are you asking me, Captor.”

You swear he is going to give you a migraine today. If he does, you have promised yourself to methodically unlace all his shoes and tie the laces together into a useless ball and give them to the neighbor’s cat as a toy. Gritting your teeth, you say, “What do people go out and do.”

“Good job. You just repeated yourself like a two bit parrot. Why don’t you try _explaining_ to me what the fuck you are trying to ask me instead of regurgitating the words like a mother bird to her squawking chicks? I promise you that I am not interested in anything you’ve already pre-chewed and vomit back up.” He narrows his eyes and furrows his brows together like two black hairy caterpillars crawling sluggishly across his brow. The mental image eases the tense feeling between your shoulders.

“What the fuck do people go out and do all the time. You know, all that shit that they do when they’re meeting people, not staying home like fucking sensible idiots.” You gesture wildly around at the little kitchen that he splits with that drug addict you could not keep your distance from enough. “Where do they go in those shitty movies, KK. I don’t have time to go watch everyone on my own, just give me a list or something.”

He opens his mouth to spit out another long-winded phrase of birds or something when he stops. He closes his mouth, taps his lips with his fingers and then says, “One second. I’ll make you a list.”

Karkat goes trundling out of the kitchen, mumbling to himself. He comes back with a pad of paper and a pen. He sits down at the table and begins to actually write you a list. He looks over it a few times, scribbles things out, writes a few more things on and then finally titles it.

Ripping off the page, he shoves it into your hands. You look down at this sheet of paper, eyebrows rising as you do. “‘Things that regular shitheads do for fun in the real world.’ How fucking quaint.”

“That’s what you wanted, right? A list of shit to do outside of your fetid smelling room?”

“Yeah that’s the idea.” You look over this list, wrinkling your nose. Feeding ducks by the lake? Really?

“So what brought this on?”  He’s leaning forward, all curious expression beneath his heavy gaze. “I mean, you’re Sollux Captor, denizen of a cave-like bedroom who hisses in the light of day and is whiter than sour cream.”

You were expecting this. But it’s been about a day or three since Feferi actually walked away from you so the emotional weight of her absence has begun to sink in. The paper crinkles in your suddenly too tight grip and you have to mentally stop yourself and smooth the paper out once more. “Feferi broke up with me.” The words are much harder to say than you really think they ought to be. She had only been around for a year or so. Long enough to be familiar, not long enough for you to really depend on her.

“Shit.” Karkat rubs his hand across his face, “Shit, man. I had no idea. You came over here and I… Shit. Let me have that list back.”

“What? No.” You keep the page out of reach from him. “Why?”

“Because I made that list for two. You can’t do most of that shit without someone else to do it with you. Did you even read that list? No way, give it back. If you’re doing shit out on your own you need a whole different list. You’re still in the finding someone phase, not the ‘oh hey let’s take my date out to weird places for dates oh yeah super great awesome job and maybe get laid’. Okay that is not where you are anymore. Different timelines dude, can’t mess with the timelines.”

“Shut the fuck up,” You laugh at him, and he’s smiling at you and just like that you’re at ease again. He doesn’t really try to take the page back from you, though, and you look over it again. “Wine tasting, huh? You really think that would get me laid?”

“Either that or a murder mystery would ensue. In any case you would at least get a sloppy drunk make out.”  He gives a one shoulder shrug. “Anyway, do you want to get shitfaced drunk about her leaving or not?”

“Wow, way to transition there, KK,” You laugh at him. He just rolls his eyes. “Nah. Let it sink in a bit more. I’m sure there’ll be a week in the future where you’ve got to drag me out of my room and stick me in a tub to clean me off and then I’ll want you to drag me off to a bar.”

He wrinkles his nose. “If I have to wash your sorry pathetic ass, you’re buying the drinks.”

“Deal,” you promise, holding out a hand to shake.

His warm, firm handshake is more familiar to you than any other. You give him a brief, true smile to show a little gratitude that he is friends with your ‘sorry pathetic ass’ and then you pull your hand back. “In the meantime, how about we get something to eat?”

“I want pancakes,” he declares, getting to his feet. You fold up that piece of paper and shove it into your pocket and pull out your keys from the other one.

“I’ll drive.”


	3. Museum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sollux tries to do something interesting people do. Interesting people go to museums, right?

Three in the afternoon.

You stand in the museum of art in your town, hands in your pockets, looking up at a wall nearly covered floor to ceiling in a large canvas with black paint on it. You are pretty fucking sure that you don’t get it.

It’s three in the afternoon and you have a crick in your neck from looking at paintings and sculptures and all sorts of whatever the shit people call art these days. You decide you can stare just as blankly from that bench a few feet back so you hurry over to it and sink down onto it, finally giving your legs a rest. Absently, you reach for your pocket for a smoke before you remember you’re in some public building and not your bedroom.

So instead you curse and jam your hands in your pockets. You glare at the painting, as if it is to blame, and try to decide how much longer you’ll waste here. This is what non-boring real life people did? Go to the museum in the middle of the afternoon on a Tuesday?

You can’t help but think of the coding you could be doing right now.

It’s then that the flash of white in the corner of your eye draws your attention. You look over and blink several times before the image settles in your eyes.

It’s a girl.

She stands in the center of the room, directly under the skylight, and whatever ray of light beaming from the afternoon sun comes through the glass hits the top of her head and lights it up like a thousand upon thousand strands of fiber optic cables. She currently has her back to you, but she’s turning slowly in a circle, observing each painting for a minute or two before she finally turns to the next one. She holds a pad of paper in one hand and a pen in the other. As her eyes look, her hand writes on the paper.

Even from this far you can tell her words are great looping lines of ink, the pen never lifting from the page except when she reaches the edge. When she’s finally turned around to face you, you’re startled to see an exceptionally attractive woman with a pale, slim face and vivid violet eyes. She doesn’t acknowledge you as she sees, writes and turns. You stare at her, silently watching.

She’s not wearing anything phenomenal. Just a long sweater that settles on her thighs, with a belt around her hips to hold it in place, and a knee length skirt under it. Sensible shoes with closed toes, black in color and a low heel. Everything about her seems controlled, practical and yet ethereally lovely. She reminds you of portrayals of angels in videogames, with wispy ethereal wings and a voice that chimes with bells.

But her eyes. They are a burning purple. Those draw you in like a deep well, reflecting light from without and shining with light from within. You blink suddenly as you realize you’ve been staring at her, into her eyes.

She looks back mildly at you, a faint smile on her lips, and one eyebrow lifted slightly higher than the other. Her hand has not stopped moving on the page, as if you are just as interesting to her as the black paintings.

You flush. Your tongue feels heavy, stuck, leaden like it did when you still lisped uncontrollably. You look away. You lurch to your feet. You hunch your shoulders up and keep your gaze down and you walk as quick as fuck out of there.

It’s only outside the small building housing just those paintings that you realize you didn’t _have_ to go anywhere. It was a public place. She didn’t ask you to leave. Hell, she didn’t look uncomfortable in the least that you were there.

Slinking back to the doorway, you glance down the hall and into the room set up. The girl with the near-glowing hair and the amused smile is sitting where you sat moments ago. She is looking at the picture you were looking at. Glumly, you turn to go. You know that she must have been able to understand those shit paintings better than you anyway.


	4. Farmer's Market

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interesting people go to Farmer's Markets. They look at vegetables. They run into ex-girlfriends. They buy honey.

Maybe Karkat was right. Maybe you should have let him give you a second list.

Hands dug deep into the joined pocket of your hoodie, you look around at the circle of pavilions set up as little booths. Vendors stand behind each table, adjusting their displays, talking to customers and generally looking eager to sell their wares. It’s like a scene out any market scene in any fantasy novel you’ve ever read, minus the livestock milling around and barefoot children shrieking. Rather, it reminds you of Zelda, and castle town, with all the little shops and smiling people milling about in twos or threes.

Nearly everyone to shop is your age, which only serves to remind you that this is a college town full of college kids and damn you’re old because that girl looks no older than sixteen but she couldn’t be that young and be married, right? They move around you, heedless of the hapless nerd in their midst as they hold up vegetables and poke at little knitted caps. It only makes you more acutely aware of how alone you are, standing in your Aperture Science hoodie and your too long jeans with the frayed edges at the bottom. Your fingers ache to code and your stomach churns for another monster. You are the epitome of loner nerd, it is you.

The couple of dollars you have jammed in your pocket seems not nearly enough, especially when you look around and see more vegetables in one place than you ever have outside of a super market. Then again, what the fuck would you even do with a couple dollars worth of veggies? You only enter your kitchen to get an energy drink or beer from the fridge and to reheat leftover take out in the microwave.

Feeling stupid just for standing and staring, you pull out your droid and put your headphones on. With some electronic rock filling in the silence of your lack of companionship, you decide to head over to a booth. You briefly consider texting Karkat to get his ass out to join you in this weirdo fest, but honestly you’d rather spare yourself the humiliation of him knowing how awkward you were in public places. He would only bring it up at ever available opportunity until you finally had to simply murder him for your sanity.

You move silently from one booth to the next, looking at vegetables you have no idea how to cook and you don’t think you’ve even eaten half of these before. Most of the vendors are busy with another customer and you don’t meet their eyes to further keep them from being interested in you. You’re looking at a box full of peaches, feeling a little hungry and more than a little sorry for yourself, when you feel a tap on your arm. Looking up, you’re preparing the words _I’m just looking,_ when you realize you’re staring in the face of Feferi.

She blinks in surprise and says something. Reaching up, you pull a bud from your ear and ask, “What?”

“Oh, sorry, I forgot about the headphone thing you do.”

Sudden anger sweeps up through you at those words. She _forgot?_ She dumped you five days ago and she forgot? “Right.” You’ve just started talking with her and you’re already ready for this conversation to end.

“So why are you out here? You don’t like this kind of stuff.”

“I’m surprised you remember that about me,” you snap a little harder than you probably should but you excuse it in your anger.

Feferi’s bright smile falters. Then she sighs and turns her head to look away, “I should have expected this. You were far too calm when we broke up. You must be terribly mad at me.”

“I’d rather not talk about it.” Your hands become fists in your pocket.

“Right.” She sighed heavily, as though you’ve just shoved some heavy burden on her. “Why does that always happen to me?” she adds under her breath. You would have missed it but for the lull between songs and because you were watching her lips.

“What do you mean?”

Feferi rubs her arm and sighs again. She looked uncomfortable. Good. “Why is it so hard for guys to communicate? You and Eridan could really use some lessons in that.”

This makes you scowl. You could communicate just fine. You just didn’t have any desire to do so with her.

“Oh don’t look at me like that!” She frowns at you, “You and him have a lot more in common than you think!”

It takes you a moment to realize that she thought you were frowning about her reference to that Eridan guy and not the communication part of her statement. What the fuck was up with that guy and her anyway? Didn’t she stop talking to him? Why did she keep bring him up? “Look, I couldn’t care any less about Eridan. Seriously. I’ve got nothing to do with him.”

She sighs that sigh that says she thinks she knows better but is choosing not to say anything. She reaches out her hand, pats your arm and then gives a little squeeze. “Sollux-”

“Let go of me,” you interrupt, taking a step back. “We aren’t friends, Feferi, or anything else, so please keep a respectful distance.”

“Feferi?” A man’s voice draws your attention from her and pouting frown. Some tall guy with a questioning furrow to the brow and a big toothed smile comes walking over. He’s got one of those weird shoulder green bags with what could be the tips of corn husks jutting out from the top. “Something wrong?”

Her pout is gone the moment he steps up beside her and puts his arm around her shoulders. She looks up and flashes him a smile that you know. It’s her _you are my darling!_ smile. You look at this guy again. He’s a good head taller than  you and looks like he could bench press a live bear. You glance down. He’s wearing stupid khaki shorts and hiking boots. You decide to hate him. Intensely.

“Oh nothing’s wrong, Jake dear,” Feferi flutters her lashes at him. ‘Jake dear’ grins at her, his worried look gone.

Your stomach flips in disgust.

“We’ve just been talking together!” she giggles, “This is my ex, Sollux.”

He has the nerve to hold out his hand for you to shake. You look at him, look at her. “Yeah, no. Fuck this. I’m done.” You turn on your heel and walk away from them. You determinedly refuse to pay attention to what they say when you go.

A golden honey bear catches your eye so you turn and make a beeline for it. The little bears calm you down, reminding you of the jars of honey your dad collected when you were a child. Jars full of the sweet, sticky natural sugar had cluttered your childhood cupboards for years. The man selling the honey stands up as you approach.

“How much?” You have plenty of honey at home, but you could use some to eat right now.

“Five dollars for a bear, eight fifty for a jar.” He gestures to each one as he talks. Then he lifts up a golden honey bear, “We have some infusions if you’d like to try one.”

“I suggest the lavender.” A cool voice speaks from your left. You almost miss it because you still have an earbud in your ear on that side. You turn and nearly swallow your tongue. There’s the girl from the museum, her lips turned up in a slight smile. They’re a deep purple and have a sheen on them so slick it’s a small rainbow smear of color. Her face is just as pale as before, but up close you can see a few freckles on the tops of her cheeks.

“What?”

Amusement dances in those violet eyes and she turns to the vendor. “Can we try the lavender?”

“Of course,” he smiles and pours out two glistening drops on a pair of small, white plastic spoons. He hands out both of them, one to you and one to her. You hesitate, holding the utensil, but the woman doesn’t. She flips the spoon upside down and pops it into her mouth. Her brilliant eyes close and you hear a soft hum from her. Shivers run down your spine.

The plastic slides out from between her lips and she hums again. “That’s still so very good.” She looks at you, “Try it.”

With a flush burning your cheeks, you gingerly taste the honey. It’s sweet, and warm despite the cool weather. The lavender starts as a slight flavor, but as the honey coats your tongue, it fills your mouth. You swirl your tongue around in your mouth and smile. “It’th good,” you mumble out, lisping just a little.

“I have a jar of this flavor at home,” she tells you, “It’s perfect for just about everything from tea to on a slice of fresh homemade bread.”

The spoon still hanging in the corner of your mouth, you stare at her. You have no idea what to say in reply. It’s as though the honey has fused your tongue to the roof of your mouth, or your mind has derailed off of a cliff into ‘How Do Talk Girls?’-ville.

“Hey! Rose!”

Her hair whirls around her head as she spins quickly to see the man calling for her. You follow her gaze and see a man of the same impossibly blond, good looking features that she has, except aviators cover his eyes. She sighs and says, “Excuse me. I’m being summoned.” Rose bobs her head to you in a little goodbye and walks away, leaving only the scent of lavender and a rustling of her skirt behind.

You stare after her. Your pounding heart sinks as you see the guy put his arm around her and lean in close to talk to her.

“Sir?” The vendor catches your attention once more, “Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” you lie, “Can I get a bear of that lavender?” You dig out the four dollars and change- just barely five- from your pocket and pay him. Putting your headphones back in, you turn up the music and tuck the bear into your hoodie’s pocket. Mumbling a goodbye, you head out of the market and on your way home. You’ve had enough of girls and their stupid boyfriends for the rest of the week. It was time to do some coding. 


	5. Bar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who cares what interesting people do. All you want to do is stay at home in bed or on the computer. Karkat has something else in mind, though, and he's not going to take no for an answer.

You wake from a dead sleep when your bedroom door bangs off the wall. Your eyes open at the same moment that the light flashes on and you groan in pain. Your arm is a leadened weight but you still throw it over your eyes to block out the light.

“You know there’s one good thing about your insane mood swings. Up or down, you always hole yourself in your room,” your arm is dragged off your face. Karkat’s scowling face is up above you and you hiss at him. “Yeah, yeah, hiss all you like, but you’re getting out of bed.”

“No.”

“Yes.” The thin sheet you’d dragged over your exhausted body early that morning is ripped away. “Get up and shower. We are going out and you are going to tell me what the fuck happened to you.”

“No.” Your attempts to shove him away are futile. He just smacks your hands away and turns you onto your back anyway. “Piss off, KK, I’m fine!”

“You look like the aftermath of a Ke$ha song and you smell like it too.” He grabs you by the ankles and pulls you from  your bed. You land with a thump on the carpet and groan in pain. You try to kick at him, but the asshole is stronger than you and his hands just tightens on your ankles. So you curse at him instead. “Oh shut up. It’s time to get ready to go.”

He drags you across the floor, over your dirty clothes and trash. You go limp to spite him and hisses again. “No, fuck you. I’m not going anywhere with anyone ever again.”

“That’s a load of heavy horse shit if I ever heard it.” One of your arms bang on the doorjam and you grunt in pain. “You’re going to shower, get dressed and eat a sandwich and then we are going out to come out with me.”

“I’m not gay, KK, I don’t need to come out with you.” You smirk up at him.

He jerks your leg, “You think you’re a clever little asshole, don’t you?” Your shirt has been pulled up by the carpet, so the sudden cold tile of your bathroom floor rises goosebumps on your skin. You hiss up at him angrily. Karkat, small as he was, was wiry and strong. You blamed all those fucking hours at the gym where he worked and worked out, just trying to be one of the guys.

Karkat picks you up and drops you into  your tub. You had two seconds of ease before hellish firewater pours down on you. You screech and flail, “The fuck are you doing to me? Trying to scald my flesh off?”

“If only it was that easy,” he replies. He does adjust the water to be more tolerable quickly. “Clean yourself up while I make you some food. If you don’t clean yourself up by the time I finish making your sandwich, I will come back in here, strip you down and clean you myself.”

“So are you being a nurse or a wife?”

He scoffs at you and jerks the curtain shut, “Just hurry up, asshole.” He walks out and shuts the door with a click.

For a good few minutes, you sit under the stream of water in a miserable sodden mess. Slowly, you peel off your thin shirt and boxers. They both drop to the bottom of the bathtub with a wet slap as you stand up. If you didn’t hurry up, Karkat would in fact come back in and try to clean you up. He was that kind of insane fucking friend.

You sigh under the stream of water and rub your face with both hands. Tonight was going to be fucking terrible.

* * *

 Karkat brings you to this shitty little bar where they play the ‘top hits’ of the last week over and over and the drinks are called stupid things like the screaming fuzzy navel or pink squirrel. The two of you wait at the bar because his idea of going out includes a handful of other friends showing up to rain on your miserable parade as well. He fidgets nervously all the while, picking at his beer bottle’s wrapper and looking towards the door every thirty seconds. You just nurse your sour mood with your bottle in your hands. “KK, you’re going to stroke out if you keep this up.” He scowls at you. “Who’s coming anyway?” You ask after a swig from the bottle.

“Well, one of my friends, Eridan, he said he was going to come and bring someone. And then Jade mentioned she’d stop by if she gets off work in time.” He blushes as he adds, “Meenah said she might come to see if this place was cool enough for her...”

For a second, you’re caught on the name Eridan. It’s familiar to you, but it’s a distant sort of familiar. But the name Meenah sends a chill down your spine that makes your stomach churn. “Meenah? As in Meena Peixes? You invited her here? She’s Feferi’s little sister!”

Now Karkat did blush, dark red. “So? She’s completely unlike Feferi is. Besides, she said she was cool with being around her sister’s ex.”

“I’m not okay with it! I don’t want to see either of them at all.”

“Sollux, c’mon, it’s not a big deal.” He tries to wave it off with his hand.

“It is a big deal,” you glare at him.

“What’s a big deal?”  You twist around to see the guy intruding on your conversation. He’s wearing this stupid purple and blue scarf to go with his thick rimmed black hipster glasses. You open  your mouth to insult him when another man steps up. He hands the first one a drink and says, “Karkat’s got his panties in a twist over the Peixes girl again.”

Your mouth dries out. The second man is the one from the market. It’s the perfect, too handsome to be fucking fair guy who had called Rose away. He’s even wearing the shades again. The guy who put his arm around her and talked to her so intimately.

Karkat ignores the blond to address the first man. “About time you showed up, Eridan. Though I didn’ know you’d be bringing this fucker with you.” He climbs down from his stool.

“Oh it’s such a pleasure to see you too,” the blond says, smirking, “Now let’s booth it.” He and Eridan step away. Karkat has to pull on your arm to get you to follow him.

You’re numb, but you follow. What was going on here?

Eridan sits right up next to the blond, smiling to him in a way that doesn’t look like just friends. Karkat shoos you into the booth across from Eridan. You sit, slouching forward, unwillingly looking up as the others spoke around you.

“Anyway, so what is the big deal?” Eridan asks. The blonde’s hand was on top of Eridan’s. You’re so fucking confused. Wasn’t this guy Rose’s boyfriend?

“I invited Meenah out tonight,” Karkat mumbles out her name. He clears his throat and continues, “Sollux here just broke up with Feferi a couple of weeks ago.”

You feel like you should argue about the time frame, but you’ve honestly lost track of how long it’s been. You haven’t been yourself for a while.

“Oh man,” Eridan says sympathetically.

“Way to put the ho before your bro,” the blonde says.

“She isn’t a ho!” Karkat snarls, “You watch your fucking mouth, Strider.” He leans in towards him.

“Dave, you know how long Kar’s been tryin’ to invite Meenah out,” Eridan turns his hand around until the two are holding hands and it’s not just Dave’s hand over his own.

“She’s younger than you and you’re really that intimidated?” Dave tips his drink to his lips. Just before the glass touches his mouth he says, “Weak.”

“Eridan,” Karkat growls out, hands tightening on the table, “Keep your boyfriend’s tongue in check or I’m going to rip it out.”

“Don’t you think you’re bein’ a little dramatic Kar?” Eridan rolls his eyes.

“Oh no, I think this is a brilliant idea,” Dave says. He leans towards Eridan and says, “Why don’t you keep my tongue in check, Eridarling?” He’s got a lewd smile on his lips. They start kissing and you look down to your bottle. You tune out.

A couple minutes later, you blink and suddenly see fingers tapping on the table in front of you. You look up and it’s just Eridan sitting with you now. He gives you a little smile and fidgets with his scarf. “Hey Sol, are you in there?”

“Huh? Yeah. What do you want?”

“I just wanted to tell you that I get it.” He leans forward, shoulders hunched as he talks in a low, soft voice, “I knew Fef too an’ I was crazy about her. We used to be really fuckin’ close, Fef an’ I were best  friends for years an’ then I fell in love with her. That kinda fuckin’ spoils everythin’ in a friendship if one gets a little too crazy about it. So she cut me loose. I figure you know a little bit about that, considerin’ she was with you when she finally let me go.” He gives a weird smile and shrugs his shoulders, “But I think it was the best thing she could a done to me. I wouldn’t have been willin’ or able to meet Dave then.”

“Dave,” you repeat slowly. “He’s your boyfriend? For how long?”

“A few months now.”

You take a moment to consider this and then ask, cautious, “Do you know a Rose?”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

You can feel your cheeks heating up, just thinking about that smile of hers, those dancing eyes, and her soft voice. “Rose. Hair white like Dave’s and with violet eyes. She wears sweaters and skirts.”

“Oh yeah. I know her. Rose Lalonde.” Lalonde. Strider. Fuck. But he keeps talking even while you bite your bottom lip. “Don’t let the last name business fool you though.”

“What?”

“Did I hear you talking about my sweet sister?” Dave shows up with a couple of drinks. He puts one down in front of you and the other in front of Eridan.

“Yeah. I was just tellin’ Sol about how you do that weird family thing where all the boys are Striders an’ all the girls Lalondes.”

You’re still reeling over the word sister as they keep talking.

“My parentals have that hyphen last name business going on so they pass their last name on to the same gendered kid,” Dave is saying, “But why the talk about my sister? I mean I would get it if it was Roxy, she’s a popular girl, but Rose?”

“Sol was askin’ if I knew a Rose with violet eyes.”

Dave looks at you over the tops of his shades. “Hey man, you aren’t having indecent thoughts about Rosey now, are you?”

“Oh my god, are you  interested in her?” Eridan’s face lights up. “He is, isn’t he?”

“Wrong question, babe,” Dave says to Eridan. “The real question is how the fuck did you meet her? You don’t look like the library and hobby store type, buddy.”

“Probably because I’m not.” You reply, “I’ve met her in other places.”

“Other places...” Dave murmurs, frowning. Then he drops his fist into his open palm like in a fucking anime. “Ah ha, I forgot. She’s been doing that thing.”

“That’s right. The thing.” Eridan nods.

“What thing?”

They shake their heads at you, “We’re not supposed to talk about it,” Dave said. “Sworn to secrecy.”

“Ugh. Fine.” You sigh and drink from your bottle. “Where’d KK go?”

“Meenah showed up like ten minutes ago,” Eridan says like that explains everything. He leans against Dave’s shoulder.

You glance down.

“Haha, fucking hell dude. You are seriously out of it. She showed up and Karkat went chasing after her like a little puppy.” Dave adopts a mocking, light tone, “Oh Meenah, Meenah! You’re so amazing and so pretty and so badass! I worship the very ground you walk on! Oh please come and grace my pitiful wretched existence with your presence!” He began to laugh, Eridan joining with him. You chuckle  along with them.

“Shit, I didn’t realize he was that crazy about her. Does it look like she’s interested in him?”

“It’s Meenah,” Eridan answers, “What do you think? She showed up, he sprang out of his chair and was lost to the world of the sane. She does what she wants, though, so she wouldn’t be here just to make him happy. She’s not like Feferi.”

“Well, here’s to KK finally getting the girl,” you lift your bottle up. Dave and Eridan laugh and lift their own as well.

“To Karkat. May he touch the booty.”


	6. Park

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Go feed the ducks, it says.  
> Go feed the ducks, you do.  
> It's stupid, but you don't regret it.

You find Karkat’s list under an empty bottle of mountain dew on your cluttered nightstand. With a frown, you skim the listed words. Nothing looks interesting for a sunny, but chilly, Thursday afternoon. You’re about to give up on the desire to leave your apartment at all and throw the paper over your shoulder when you notice something on the list.

Feed the ducks at the park.

It’s just as stupid as all the other ideas provided, but at least it was free. You scrounge up a half a loaf of stale bread, grab your apartment key and don your jacket before you head out. The weather is nicer than you thought before. The sun is obscured behind some clouds and there’s none of that usual blustery wind to cut through your clothing to chill you.

The park is only three blocks down the street, so you keep warm by walking quickly down the sidewalk. When you get there, you find the place mostly deserted. There’s an old man reading a book in a gazebo, puffing at a pipe in silence. You walk along the pathway towards the pond by yourself.

There’s a good handful or two of ducks around the bank. Some are drifting in the water and others just waddling around, as ducks do. You inch towards them, a little worried that they might be rabid fowl or something. It would be just your luck that these birds would attack you rather than eat a handful of old bread.

But when you pull out the first slice and start ripping it to pieces, they come honking up towards you, fluffing feathers and stepping from foot to foot around you. You throw some of the bread to the ground and watch as the birds eat.

Slice after slice of bread, you keep feeding the birds. As you get to the heel of the loaf, you rip the pieces up slowly. “I can’t believe this is considered fun.”

“Usually, when one decides to go and feed the birds, they actually like the birds they’re feeding.”

Your heart stops. You turn around, slowly.

Perched on a bench less than ten feet behind you is Rose. Today she wears a long sweater and pants. There’s a thick book on her lap, page open to somewhere in the middle. She brushes some of her white hair behind her ear and looks down and away.

You throw the rest of the bread to the ground and shove the plastic bag into your pocket. Turning to face her, you shuffle towards her until you’re standing a few feet in front of her. “My name is Sollux.”

“Rose,” She replies, “Rose Lalonde.”

After a moment of silence, you step to the side and then sit down on the bench as well. You look out at the pond with the ducks and then down at your knees. You look at your jacket and then over at her book. She turns a page with her fingertips on the edge.

You open your mouth to say something. You had to say something. That’s what girls liked, wasn’t it? Feferi always complained when you sat quietly for so long. But what was there to say?

You look up from her book and realize she’s looking at you. She gives you a little smile that makes her eyes crinkle. Your mouth is still open and before you know it you’re regurgitating the first words that come to mind.

“I love you.”

Those purple eyes widen and her mouth opens in an O. Her cheeks turn a deep red and she stares at you.

You can’t even pull back you’re so surprised in yourself. You’re frozen to the bench, staring at her as she stares at you. “I-,” you begin to apologize but instead you say, “I really love you.”

Her mouth closes and she looks away. You see sadness in her arched eyebrows. “You think I’m mysterious. A strange, mysterious girl with strange eyes and strange hair doing strange things. I’m like a mystical being you’ve never seen, and a magical spell you’ve never learned. A mythical creature that you see at the fleeting edges of reality. You want to see what I am, because you think there’s a grand, magnificent being under these simple clothes.”

She turns her head around to look at you. She’s smiling but there’s nothing in her eyes but tears. “For a month I will fascinate you. You’ll watch me in whatever I’m doing. You’ll marvel at my hands and my hair and my words. You’ll find my clothing charming and my insistence on healthy eating admirable. You’ll be grateful when I clean up. You’ll laugh at my sarcasm. You’ll drink a cup of tea with me from time to time and nod your head when I bring up whatever book I’ve been watching. You’ll think that my knitting is adorable and my violin playing is the sweetest music. When I say no to sex until we have a true commitment, you’ll commend me for being firm in my morals. For a month, you’ll love me, cherish me like a brilliant flame that you want keep burning at any cost.

“And then you’ll get bored.”

Your hands tighten into fists inside of your pockets at that damn word.

“Suddenly,” she continues on, her gaze unwavering despite the moisture gathered in her eyes, “my routine will seem a burden. My daily breakfast of tea, fruit and toast will become tedious. You’ll scoff when I take a break in the afternoon to drink tea and eat little biscuits, and mock me for attempting to emulate the British even when you know it isn’t true. You’ll get sick of all the vegetables, all the trips to markets and health food stores. You’ll think I’m being pedantic and condescending with my superfluous language and verbosity when this is simply how I talk. My knitting will remind you of your grandmother or your mother or your aunt, who always gives you those sweaters or socks or scarves you hate and never gives you anything you can appreciate on a holiday. You’ll find my cleaning aggravating, because it will make you feel like a slob, or because it will remind you of your mother or another lover.”

She takes a breath that makes her chest rise and her her chin dip down. She closes her eyes, “You’ll find my clothing unsexy. Complain that I never show enough skin, that I dress like I’m eighty, that you can’t even tell I’m a girl from behind. You will complain about my nightgowns and my stockings and my sweaters. You’ll say it’s my fault you’re not attracted to me anymore.

“You’ll stick around for as long as you want, until you’re tired that I still won’t have sex with you. You’ll call me a prude at first and then when you leave you’ll call me a boring, condescending, snooping, frigid bitch and slam the door.”

She opens her eyes. The tears are gone. “I’m not a mystical creature. I’m just a woman who reads and knits and cleans and enjoys a good cup of tea and some salad. There’s nothing miraculous about me besides my eyes. I am as bland and boring as this faded sweater.” She lifts her arm, as if you can’t see that the pattern has faded from diamonds down the sleeve barely visible angles.

You don’t know what to say. You blink for a second and then you force yourself to relax and say, “Well that’s a fucking relief. I don’t know what I would do with a unicorn.” You sigh heavily. “Maybe sell it? I think I know a guy who really likes horses.”

“You would sell a unicorn?” she blinks in surprise, but the corner of her lips are turned up in amusement.

“What would I do with it?” you reiterate. “I can’t keep it in my apartment, and I certainly don’t know how to take care of one. I barely take care of myself. I’m a computer guy.” You pull your hands out from your pockets and wiggle your fingers in the air like you’re typing on a keyboard. “I could code you up a unicorn program, complete with sparkling rainbows and sighing maidens. The whole shebang. But take care of a real unicorn? No.”

“You would truly sell the unicorn?”

“I don’t like mythical creatures, so it’s not like I’m missing out on anything.” You put your hands away again with a shrug. “Unicorns are for other people, but tea and sweaters? Knitting and cleaning? That sounds nice.”

She laughs softly behind a hand. “I suppose a unicorn would be useless to me as well. I don’t even know how to ride a horse. In fact, they’re somewhat frightening to me.”

“It’s the breathing,” you say. “They breathe loudly, horribly loudly.”

“And their eyes. Just staring and staring, huge and black like cow’s.”

“A cow you can ride, that’s what a horse is. And a unicorn is one of those with a horn.”

She gives you a little smile again. Your stomach flip-flops. She reaches over, her hand hesitating in the air. You pull your hand out of your pocket and reach out to hers. The two of you hold hands while sitting on the bench together, in silence.

After a few minutes, your stomach rumbles. Flushing, you put your free hand over your stomach. Rose laughs softly and closes her book with her free hand, “Do you want some lunch?”

“Isn’t it a bit late for that? It’s almost three.”

“You’re right.” She squeezes your hand and, holding her book against her chest, she begins to stand. “Might I invite you to tea at my apartment?”

You stand, holding her hand, “Have you got that lavender honey still?”

The smile she gives you is bright and you think it’s even more brilliant than her violet eyes.


	7. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue: Yes, two people can sit together in an oversized purple armchair. It is a fine place to drink tea.

The final box was far heavier than the first, and as you carried it up the steps, your thin arms and banged up fingers complained. It was one of your boxes, so you put it down gently in your new bedroom and heave a heavy sigh of relief. It was done. New apartment. New life. Even a new car.

Well, it was new to you anyway.

“Sollux?”

The only thing, besides a dozen boxes of belongings, that you’ve brought along with you from your last apartment into this one is her.

The door to your new office room is pushed open slightly. Rose has a bandana that’s acting as her headband today and her sleeves have been rolled up to her elbows. She smiles at you, her lips soft and sweet, “Hungry?”

“Starved.” You get up from the box to sit down on your computer chair but she pushes the door open wider and gestures for you to follow.

“Take a break from the boxes dear, and come to the living room.” She fades away again with a whisper of cloth and that lingering smile.

You push the chair away and head out into the rest of the apartment. The short hallway opens up to a living area joined with a kitchen. There are boxes tucked here and there, several in front of a bookshelf, and another on the counter beside Rose. She’s pouring two hot cups of tea, humming, and looks up at you when you fold your arms on the counter and say, “Hey sexy, what’s cooking?”

“Turkey and provolone on whole wheat with lettuce, spinach and those banana peppers you are so fond of. There’s rosehip tea with infused lemon honey to wash it down with.” She hands you a paper pate with the sandwich on it, “Go sit.” She waves her hand at you.

You give her a “yes m’am,” and go to the only chair out in the large joined room. The armchair is plush and tall and a deep purple. It’s Rose’s favorite chair and the first time you sat in it you fell in love with the soft cushions and the imperial feel of it. It wasn’t something you’d ever though that you would like and sitting in it made you feel like a pompous asshole, but sitting on the large cushion with your legs draped over one arm and your back propped up against the other was one of your new favorite things.

Rose comes into the room a minute later and she’s got little saucers with teacups in either hand with her own plate held on the bend of her elbow. “Coming through,” she steps up on the edge of the cushion and, turning while she does, she sits down on your other side. She scoots up against the back of the couch and drapes her legs over your middle. You put your plate on her knees and relieve her of a cup of tea. “How does it taste?”

“Fucking heavenly,” you say around a mouthful of sandwich. You drink the tea, because even though it’s basically flavored water sweetened with honey. It makes her happy when you drink her tea with her. You like it when she’s happy. You tend to get massages if she’s happy.

She smiles lightly to you and sips her drink. Her little pinky is extended and everything.

You’re warm, with her sitting so close, sipping the warm drink and eating the delicious sandwich. You hold the cup and saucer in one hand, steady your sandwich plate with your other hand and lean over. She turns her head towards you, knowing what you’re about to do.

Her mouth is as soft as her smile that turns up against your lips.

She wears long skirts and sweaters and the only thing that ever really seems to change is the headband in her hair. She drinks tea from china from a flea market and knits the longest scarves you’ve ever seen. She’s not a unicorn, even with her white hair and violet eyes. She’s a girl with warm kisses and cold feet and she smells like lavender from bubble baths.

She hates leaving the house except for the library and she plays violin at four in the morning.

She was such a boring, uninteresting girl.

And you loved every inch of her.


End file.
